Out of the Blue (25 page)

“What should we do?” I asked Joe.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he said. “Come on.”

“I knew I should have taped her mouth,” I muttered. “I couldn’t find the duct tape.”

As we came within range, Celeste was sputtering something about “breeding,” and Ma retorted, “Don’t talk to me about breeding. I’m not one of your fucking racehorses.”

“Ma,” I said.

But she ignored me and reached out to grab Celeste by the arm. “We’re gonna go duke this out. Come on.” The two of them marched stiffly off to Ma’s bedroom. Just before Ma kicked the door closed, I caught a glimpse of their faces.

“Scylla and Charybdis,” I said. Duncan burst out laughing. I could see that he was actually enjoying this. He caught me staring and tried to replace his amusement with an expression of concern.

“What happened?” Joe asked him. Grant had tagged along behind, and now Eva and Dee edged in closer.

“I think you’d better ask the ladies,” Duncan said. “Gosh, that lamb is outstanding. I’m going to help myself to some more.” He slid away, leaving us in the dark.

“Do you think there might be a murder?” I asked.

“Whatever makes them happy,” Joe said. “Meanwhile, let’s eat.”

“I like your boyfriend,” Grant said, and went off with Joe to fill his plate.

I spent the next twenty minutes chatting with Father Dewbright about the months he’d languished in jail during the sixties on account of his radical politics. But I had one eye on that bedroom door, wondering if there were bleeding bodies stretched out on the floor behind it. Eventually it opened and the mothers trooped out. Celeste’s eyes were swollen and her nose was scarlet. Ma looked perfectly composed. A hush fell. All attention was riveted on them as they headed straight for the punch bowl. Ma poured two drinks and handed one to Celeste. They clicked glasses and downed half in one swallow. Then Celeste marched up to me and began a monologue about Gus—whom she referred to as “Augustus”—and his interest in multiple sclerosis, which she attributed in equal parts to me and to his lawyer friend who had worked with him on the planes. She said that since Gus’s death, the Society had received over three thousand dollars in his name.

Joe came up to put his hand on my elbow. I could feel the energy in his fingers. “Frank is looking for you, Mother,” he said. She backed off gratefully as Joe practically shoved me into my bedroom. He locked the door behind us and pulled me into his arms. “What do you say we get Father Dewbright in here right now and do this thing?” he murmured against my neck.

“I’m not sure he’s up to it at the moment. He likes that punch. Do you have any idea what got the Mothers so riled?”

“Nobody heard the opening shot.” He kissed me and I kissed him and then it got a little dicey in terms of decorum. My bed was looking awfully inviting.

“Maybe it’s purely physical attraction,” I said when I could catch my breath.

“Probably,” Joe said. “Let’s take advantage of it before it wears off.” He reached around and pulled me against him, pelvis to pelvis.

There was a sudden pounding on the door. “We know you’re making out in there!” Grant bellowed.

“We’ll be out in a minute!” I shouted back.

But I put my arms around Joe and held on. “Promise me we’ll never forget the way we feel right this second.”

“Can’t do that,” he said.

“Do you have to be so honest all the time?” I murmured.

“Yeah,” he said. Then we straightened our clothes and headed back out into the fray.

“What
happened
?” I asked Ma when Father Dewbright finally left, last to go and somewhat the worse for wear.

“Your mother-in-law’s got a mouth on her, I’ll give her that,” Ma said. “Let’s talk in your room so you can lie down.”

Carmen had hired three of her cousins to help out and was having a grand time ordering them around in the kitchen.

I propped myself up on some pillows and waited. As usual, it was impossible for Ma to perform only one task at a time so while she talked, she massaged my feet.

“First thing she did,” Ma said, “was give me the old-fashioned check, you know, the eyeball slide from head to toe to figure out where I got my frock. So I tried to save her the trouble by giving her an inventory right off the bat: dress from J. Crew summer sale catalog
1995,
shoes on loan from Mrs. Jake Wellaway’s closet, Apartment 9B—”

“You didn’t.”

“Lookit, Anna, I figure you and Joe are in this for the long haul. I don’t plan on taking any crapola from this broad, and she might as well know it from the get-go.”

“She got mad?”

“I could see she was a bit peeved, so then she started in on how it was so sweet to see the way her boy took such good care of you and how he’s always been so charitable with the helpless, impaired, and pathetic.”

“No, now she didn’t—”

“She gave me this song and dance about Joe and his collection of abused fucking field mice or something….”

“Not the strays. I’ve heard about the strays.”

“Pissed me off, I have to say. But we got it straightened out.”

She started working on my calves. Standing around had worn them out. I wondered fleetingly when I’d ever feel her fingers again, but that wasn’t a constructive thought. “What’d you do, flog her with your bathrobe belt?”

“We had a little chat, that’s all.”

“Come on, Ma.”

“I told her I thought you two had a shot at a lifetime deal here, especially if you didn’t have to endure extra grief from outside influences. I allowed as to how my intuition told me she had the makings of a true pain in the butt in that department and we ought to squelch it right now. First she started in with some asshole rant about how I had some nerve and all that, but then she just ran out of steam. She’s pretty broken up about losing her husband.”

“She paid no attention to Gus whatsoever. I don’t think they ever even talked to one another.”

“Anna, don’t make that mistake. You can never know about anybody’s marriage. They’re mysteries, even to the people living in them. She kept saying how he could fix everything, as if now it’s all broken. It was pitiful. And let me ask you something. Did you know she had polio as a child?” My jaw dropped. “Oh yes,” Ma said. “She was the last kid in her community to come down with it. Even wore braces on her legs until she was eight years old.”

“Joe never told me.”

“When that subject came up, she just lost it completely. Cried her heart out.”

“Well, I suppose that explains a few things.”

“Anyhow, she’s not going to give me any lip.” Ma got up and turned out the light. “I’d better do some damage control in the kitchen.”

I grabbed her hand and pulled her back to me. “Ma. Wait. I’ve got to figure out how to tell you—”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, extracting herself. “Nobody wants to hear that bullshit.” But she bent down and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

As a little reminder, or maybe a tiny private jest, God decided to scare the hell out of me on the big day. When I first woke up in the morning, everything seemed normal except for the outlandish realization that I was about to get married. I lay there for a few minutes thinking: Oh. My. God. And alternately grinning and panicking. But when I rolled over and tried to get out of bed, I found that my left foot
just said no,
in the venerable words of a former First Lady of the land. Everything on the left side from the hip down had checked out for the duration. Already on the honeymoon. Flown to the West Coast, metaphorically speaking. I yelled for Ma, and together; we managed to get me up.

I phoned Joe to tell him I just might be seated during the performance. “I’ll sit on your lap,” was his comment.

“Your mother had polio when she was a child,” I said, providing what I thought was the bulletin of the century.

“Yeah. That’s how she got into horseback riding.”

“You knew?!”

“Sure.”

“But Joe, don’t you think her having polio was just a tad relevant to her response to me? How come you never told me?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Oh my.” I was thinking, Maybe this clueless man could actually use me in his life.

“I need you for this kind of stuff. Wanna get married?” he asked through a yawn.

It was a day filled with things to do which would take longer now that I was about thirty percent out to lunch. I was damned if I was going to give up my pedicure, however, since it was my first ever. Dee came along and we had a crisis over color choice. She wound up with hot pink polish and I did one foot in melon and one in flaming scarlet. It just seemed that the character of my feet differed to such a degree, particularly today, that they cried out for differentiation. My theory was that a lively melon shade might stir some sensation into the numb foot. In any event, this was the sort of thing I permitted myself to think about—now that I was casting my lot in with this man who was practically a complete stranger, and leaving behind a person who had been my sole support and comfort for my entire life.

Somehow the day dissolved and maybe the nail polish worked because I was standing on both feet. My hair was combed, my bag was packed: one bathing suit, one toothbrush, and 420 pills. Ma had been subdued all day. No clatter in the kitchen, very little conversation and then only a single “Damn” when her dress snagged. Every time I looked at her, my eyes filled up.

Some of my father’s contribution went into the hiring of a commodious limousine. I backed in easily. “Where’s the lap pool?” I called to Ma. She was still outside holding the door open. Big Bob leaned all the way in and handed me a little box. His face was as red as the polish on five of my toes.

“I want to wish you and your husband all the happiness in the world,” he recited. I realized that he was waiting for me to kiss his cheek, which I did.

“You’ve been a godsend, Bob,” I said. “I’m going to miss you.”

He grabbed my hand, crushed my knuckles affectionately, and backed out. Ma got in and off we went. I fumbled to open Big Bob’s present. It was a bracelet charm, a little silver airplane that looked just like Gus’s. A test. If I could get through that, I’d probably be all right.

When we got to the church, the sun was making a slow slide down over the West Side. Ma started to get out of the limo but I reached for her arm. In just a few minutes, our lives were going to change irrevocably. We couldn’t hurtle into it without some small recognition.

“Stay a minute,” I said.

She turned to scan me with that computer-virus software she had in her head. I knew that no one, not even Joe, would ever read me so quickly, so thoroughly.

“Lock the door,” I said.

She did it. I could hear someone on the sidewalk saying, “Are they coming out?”

“Ma—” I began.

She held up her hands. “Oh, no. Don’t start.”

“It has to be said.”

“Nothing fucking well has to be said. You want me to get through this goddamn ordeal in one piece or what?”

“I have to. Otherwise I can’t get married.”

She sighed, then sat back and waited as if for imminent execution. I hadn’t rehearsed this, so it took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts.

“I want you to understand that I’m aware of what it’s cost you to take care of me,” I started out. “It hasn’t been easy and you have never complained. Not once.” I felt my voice begin to shake. She put her hands over mine, those soft, caring hands.

“It was a privilege, Anna,” she said.

I had to wait a minute before I could go on. “You’ve made it possible for me to have a life,” I said, “and now it’s your turn. Even though I know you’ll be lonely for a while. Ma, no matter where I am, however far away, I want you to call me whenever you need me. You have to promise, Ma.”

She looked at me with wet eyes. “Okay. I promise.”

I lifted her hands and put them to my cheek. Somebody rapped on the window. “What’s going on in there?” It was Steve. “Are we having a wedding?”

Ma rolled down the window. “What’s the goddamn hurry?” She hated being rushed.

“It’s all right, Steve,” I called past her. “We’re coming out.”

I caught a glimpse of Joe slipping into the church and remembered the first time I saw him at the photography exhibit. I thought I’d come to terms with my illness then. But the truth was, I was only just now beginning to accept it, acknowledging with certainty the reality and the permanence of it. I guessed that time had had a hand in the process, and Ma, too, but mainly it was Joe. There seemed no doubt at all about that.

Ma caught my eye. “You look ready,” she said.

I nodded.

“Okay, babe. Let’s do it.” She got out of the limo and there was Duncan Reese’s hand extended to me once again, this time to lead me up the steps and into the sanctuary. Inside, the little church was lit up with candles. The wedding guests sat on both sides of the aisle in the first few pews. When they turned to us, warm candlelight flickered on their faces. Steve began a simple melody on the recorder. Joe had assured me that he played well, and indeed the sound soared pure and true against the stone of the old church. I walked to the altar, with Ma on one side, Duncan on the other. I could see Joe waiting there, the lines fanning from his eyes as he smiled at me. Not a stranger at all, but my Joe.

“Dearly beloved …” said Father Dewbright. And so it went, in a blink of time, the culmination of so much suffering and laughter and foolishness and agonizing, and ultimately, affirmation.

Joe kissed me shamelessly. It must have lasted a full minute, which is a very long time when you’re aware of so many eyes on you, maybe in particular those of your mother-in-law. When we turned to walk back down the aisle, I was simply unable to lift my left foot. Steve was piping away with something that sounded like an Irish folk tune while I stood rooted to the stone floor. Joe looked at me with concern.

“First gear seems to be broken,” I explained.

“Oh, that’s easy,” he said, and swept me up in his arms. Grant whooped in delight as everyone applauded. Joe carried me out of the church and set me down beside the car where we said our good-byes. I couldn’t look at my mother.

Then I tossed the flowers high in the air—I still have a pretty good arm—as everybody backed away from Ma. She had no choice but to catch them. There was cheering, and suddenly Joe and I were being pelted with rice. We took refuge in the limo. The door clicked shut, and we pulled away.